And now we’re stuck with him: Charlie Watts, Keith Richards, and The Jazzy Soul of Rock and Roll

 

Even for a band that has suffered more ups and downs than ten others combined in its 59 years, this has been an exceptionally difficult few days for The Rolling Stones, maybe the most difficult. On Tuesday, their drummer, Charlie Watts, passed away at the age of 80. There has been an outpouring of tributes for him, and support for his bandmates and family, and doubtless, there will continue to be scads of well-deserved writing dedicated to his abilities, offbeat personality, and place in music history. I’d like to do something a little different here. One of the rarest and most precious things in music is an enduring partnership, particularly one where the participants like each other as much as the notes they play five or fifty years on. Keith Richards and Charlie Watts, two men who couldn’t appear more opposite, had that, and made the world a better, more swinging place with it. 

If you’ve ever attended a Rolling Stones concert or watched one of their music videos, chances are you’ve seen the little gray-haired man who sits behind the drums and regards the proceedings with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, when he doesn’t look vaguely comatose. You may have also wondered why Keith Richards spends so much time with his back towards the audience, facing the drum riser, or why that unassuming drummer gets such thunderous applause. Well, wonder no more. 

The Watts-Richards partnership certainly lacks the explosive, tabloid selling nature of The Glimmer Twins, or the junkie romance of Richards and Woods, but it’s an interesting window through which to view the adolescence of rock and roll, and, on a more individual level, how different personalities can work together to create some very beautiful music. 

Born on the 2nd of June, 1941, Charlie Watts grew up in a prefab house in Wembley, the son of a lorry driver for LMS and a homemaker. He made quick friends with his neighbor across the way, Dave Green, and the two boys spent hours listening to all of the jazz records they could get their hands on, especially Charlie Parker, Charles Mingus, and Jelly Roll Morton. When Watts received a banjo as a thirteenth birthday present, he disassembled the instrument and put the banjo head on a stand in order to play it like a snare drum, practicing brushwork on old newspapers so he could imitate his hero Chico Hamilton. 

After completing an art school education in Harrow, he became a successful graphic designer, and, once he returned from a stint working in Denmark, agreed to join Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated in early 1962. He was little acquainted with blues music, and said of the experience later: “I went into rhythm and blues. When they asked me to play, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it meant Charlie Parker, played slow.”

Keith Richards was born two years later, on December 18th, 1943 in Dartford, Kent, a town in the London Basin almost 40 miles from Wembley. His grandfather, Gus, toured the UK with his big band Gus Dupree and His Boys, and taught him the rudiments of guitar playing from a young age, despite his father’s objections. An avid choirboy, he gave up singing when his voice broke and dedicated himself more fully to the guitar, picking up a love of Chuck Berry and other early rock and roll stars from his art schoolmates. It was at his grammar school that Richards became friends with PE teacher’s son Mick Jagger, who, after the families moved apart, he would reencounter on railway platforms on his way to classes at LSE with mail-order records from Chess under his arm. 

Deciding not to shake Jagger down for the sake of old camaraderie, they instead struck up a musical conversation on the journey into central London, and started working together in amateur bands. In 1962, Richards’ father abandoned the family, and he dropped out of Sidcup Art College to devote himself to music, moving into a Kensington flat with Jagger and Brian Jones, a guitarist the two boys had met on the London blues scene. 

They had met Jones after reading about Korner’s Blues Incorporated in Jazz News, and noting his residency at the Ealing Jazz Club, sent a tape in to see if he would allow them to play together. The collaboration went well and, when Jones was removed from the group, he joined Jagger and Richards to form a new band, The Rolling Stones. However, Brian wasn’t the musician Keith most wanted to snag from Korner. He was fascinated with the taciturn jazz drummer. 

Almost fifty years after their initial meeting, in his memoir Life, Richards recalled, “We said ‘God, we’d love that Charlie Watts if we could afford him.’” Watts liked what he saw in the nascent Rolling Stones, and was friendly with pianist and founding member Ian ‘Stu’ Stewart, but wouldn’t join without the promise of a steady salary to match what he got playing with Blues Incorporated. So Richards and Jagger put their minds to fulfilling that goal. “We starved ourselves in order to pay for him! Literally. We went shoplifting to get Charlie Watts. We cut down on our rations we wanted him so bad, man. And now we’re stuck with him!”

Due to his salary requirements, Watts didn’t actually play with the Stones at their famous Marquee Club gig, but joined officially on January 12, 1963. (This, not July 12th, is the date Richards marks as the official “birth” of the band, and the day the band got its “heartbeat”). Popularity came quickly for the Stones, and, though they began as a cover band, working as a support act to stars like Little Richard and Bo Diddley, the release of a Glimmer Twins (the name for the Jagger/Richards partnership) composition, “Off The Hook”, became their second UK Number 1 and revived the band after a disastrous first tour of the United States in 1964. 

The 1960s saw the Stones at their chart-topping peak, and experimenting with a range of styles, from the blues that first brought them success to Beatles-esque psychedelia. It was also in this era that the unique rhythm section pattern of the band was cemented. In the vast majority of rock bands, everyone, from the guitarist and bassist to the singer and (possibly) keyboard player, follows the drummer. That wasn’t their formula. Instead, the drums followed the rhythm guitar player, i.e. Keith Richards. It’s something most drummers would have bristled over at best (if Jack Bruce had suggested that Ginger Baker follow him there would have been one less bassist in the world in short order), but Watts went along with it because he saw what it contributed to the band’s sound. Namely, a sense of tension, as the drummer was always chasing the beat, and an unmistakable musical signature. 

This isn’t to say that Watts was an unquestioning follower. Although the Stones have dabbled in cover music quite extensively in their career, the lion’s share of the band’s catalog is Glimmer Twin creations, generally on the pattern of riffs by Richards and lyrics by Jagger. But the beat was always a Watts’ creation. “I’ll play Charlie a riff in the studio and I might think, This is a great riff, you know, play it for half an hour but if Charlie hasn’t picked up on it, I know I’m wrong, you know, because it won’t be a good record.” Jagger echoed his partner’s sentiment on quite a few occasions, and found that “Charlie can give you an idea that you hadn’t thought of that can change it around completely.” Don Was, the band’s longtime producer, explained in the 90s that when Keith, who occasionally does both lyrics and riffs on a song, was composing, “[he] needs to play with other musicians and he hammers out a song by playing it over repeated sittings, with at least Charlie sitting behind the drums.” 

As the ‘60s bled into the ‘70s, the band lost founding guitarist Brian Jones and picked up Mick Taylor. Taylor, who left the band after only five years in 1975, is featured on much-beloved albums like Let It Bleed and Sticky Fingers. But maybe their most famous and critically acclaimed, Exile on Main St., while an excellent showcase for Taylor’s talent, is as much as anything a showcase for the Richards-Watts partnership. The band had gone into tax exile in 1971, and Richards, by then a devotee of heroin (not to mention any other illegal or illicit substance he could get his hands on), set up shop in Villa Nellcôte, a former Gestapo headquarters in the south of France. Recording a new album in the cavernous basement system of the mansion gave Watts the opportunity to experiment with distance and echo in his work, and Richards relied on his presence before that of almost anyone else when it came time to start jamming. Songs like “All Down the Line” and “Rip This Joint” testify to the prominence the guitar player was willing to give his drummer, and how he was needed to bring propulsion and swing. 

Only a few years later, in 1977-8, with Ronnie Wood now in the mix, the Stones found themselves under threat from punk. They had become that most feared of all things, the establishment, and objects of open ridicule in some quarters for being ‘old’ rockers. Hence, Some Girls was born. An album that is particularly heavy on punk and dance influences, Watts had already become adaptable in style because of the frequency with which Richards liked to mix other genres, especially reggae and country, with rock. (Although in this case, the dance influences were mostly due to Jagger, who worried about losing popularity. Years later, Charlie recounted an occasion on which Keith “went mad” on him and Mick because they came back from a club singing a Village People song). It wasn’t a one-sided growth. This was the first album to feature something which would become distinctive to the band’s sound, the china cymbal. Generally used for special effects, Watts decided to make it his primary crash, and lent a new brash and very loud element to their albums. 

Despite the drug excesses of the 1970s, the ‘80s were an altogether less pleasant experience for the “world’s greatest rock and roll band.” Due to disputes between Mick and Keith, and the vocalist’s desire to launch a solo career, no touring happened between 1982-9, and the two studio albums of the period were poorly reviewed.  (This is also the age of the infamous punch into a plate of salmon tale which you’ve undoubtedly heard this week. Long story short, Jagger learned in short and elegant order that he was, in fact, Charlie Watts’ singer). Charlie, the anti-rockstar who avoided his bandmates penchant for drugs, sex, and drink, spiraled unexpectedly into substance abuse in 1983, self-medicating on heroin, amphetamines, and liquor. An unlikely advocate, in addition to the very real threat his addiction posed to his marriage, came to his rescue. 

“I just stopped cold – for me and for my wife. It was never me, really. I passed out in the studio once [during the recording of Dirty Work], and that to me was a blatant lack of professionalism. You might have been drunk in the studio, but you’d never f*** up. I passed out, and Keith picked me up – this is Keith, who I’ve seen in all sorts of states doing all sorts of things – and he said to me, “This is the sort of thing you do when you’re 60.” And that stuck in my mind. I think I’m very lucky to be alive and to have made a very good living doing what I do.”

Despite Watts’ addictions, the ‘80s weren’t just the solo producing years of Jagger. He encouraged Richards to start up his own band, as it looked like they’d be on a long “break”, and, though he refused the guitarist’s many offers to be the drummer for the project, he did set him up with Steve Jordan, who would become Richard’s go-to for all none Stones work. Charlie decided to indulge his love of jazz in grand fashion, starting up a big band that toured around the world, though at a much less frantic pace than his rock endeavors. This turned out to be grounds for a bit of mischief. Both Keith and Mick were seen attending Charlie’s jazz performances at Ronnie Scott’s together in 1985, and separately for the next few years. On one occasion: 

“When Charlie Watts brought his quintet to the famous London jazz club Ronnie Scott’s for a Charlie Parker tribute show in 1992, someone could be heard shouting over the thunderous applause following the first number, ‘It would be alright, apart from the damn drummer!’ That someone was Keith Richards.”

The Stones officially came back together, and got back on tour, in 1989. Determined to show that nearing 50 was no reason to retire to the quiet life, they staged huge shows around the world, with Watts and Jagger collaborating closely on stage design. Their 90s albums continued the tradition of recording and technique experimentation between Keith and Charlie, with songs that featured drumming on trash bins or in stairwells paired with guitars filtered through oddball amps and new riffs. This proved to be the template for the rest of the band’s musical adventures (and misadventures). While live playing and album frequency dropped off relatively post-1998, they continued to stage record-breaking tours and release new music, as well as an album composed entirely of covers of little-known blues songs. When Charlie got throat cancer in 2004, Keith and Mick waited for his return to full health to record A Bigger Bang, and staged a massive tour only when he was well and rested. Watts was actually one of the driving forces to the band’s return to more frequent touring in 2012, for the 50th anniversary, after a seven-year hiatus, one which lasted until the onset of the coronavirus. 

Keith Richards, meanwhile, seemed to have made it something of a personal mission to get his drummer his due post-WWIII, and dispel his reputation as simplistic or lucky. He was consistently full of praise for Watts through the Stones lengthy career, and only ratched it up as the years went by: 

“I drove up to the joint we were rehearsing in one afternoon, and I could hear these drums going. I thought ‘Ah, Charlie’s here’. So I killed the engine and sat in the car for about five minutes listening to him playing – just warming up. ‘Yeah, soundin’ good’. Then I started to get my stuff together to go inside, and I happened to see myself in the driving mirror. I had this silly grin on my face. I didn’t even know I was smiling, but that’s what Charlie does for me.”

Charlie, he declared, “is the best jazz drummer of the g*dd*mn century”, quite the opposite to the humble man who considered him totally “replaceable”, and “if you’ve got a drummer like Charlie Watts, you don’t drop him, man. No way. I’d rather drop first.” He was similarly enthusiastic for the man behind the kit. 

Charlie is incredibly honest, brutally honest. Lying bores him. He just sees right through you to start with. And he’s not even that interested in knowing, he just does. That’s Charlie Watts. He just knows you immediately. If he likes you, he’ll tell you things, give you things, and you’ll leave feeling like you’ve been talking to Jesus Christ. They say he’s a dying breed, but with people like Charlie, they must always have been rare. Genuinely eccentric in the sense of having his own way of doing things…The only word I can use for Charlie is deep.”

More succinctly, it was simply, “he’s an amazing man. My aim is to get as cool as Charlie” and “I want to be buried next to him.” 

The startling truth of these many years together is that Charlie Watts, rock’s most reluctant drummer who dreamed of playing out his days with Miles or Mingus in the Blue Note, in many ways helped to create a jazz band. Something Keith was proud of. The dirty “secret” of the Stones, he shared, was that they were a “jazz band”, who relied on improvisation more than anything, filled some of the best hits with multitudinous tempo changes and shuffles, and brought in greats like Sonny Rollins for solos. For Charlie, playing with Keith was “a bit like playing with Charlie Parker”, his greatest hero, for those very reasons. 

Which leaves us at the here and now. What remains in the wake of a 59 year long bond when one half has gone away? The music, of course. Every Stones’ song is a testament to a decades long professional partnership rare for its productiveness and enduring affection. And the personal? 

Well, Keith said it best himself, with no words at all.

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  1. Stad Coolidge
    Stad
    @Stad

    Sadly, we’re due for a parade of classic rockers performing their final encore . . .

    • #1
  2. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Stad (View Comment):

    Sadly, we’re due for a parade of classic rockers performing their final encore . . .

    Yep, it’s about getting to that time. Jazz fans suffered the same fate in the 70s through to the 90s, I think. 

    • #2
  3. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    I don’t tend to get upset about celebrity deaths, but Charlie Watts’ hit hard, maybe because it felt that no Rolling Stone was ever really going to die. More than that, though, it’s because the Stones are quite intertwined with my daily life, and Charlie is the reason for it. Mick Jagger and I share an alma mater, and as that’s the only fact Americans ever seem to know about LSE, I was vaguely conscious of them when I started there, but didn’t give the music much attention. My taste has always been in classical, jazz, and, to a lesser extent, the blues, never rock. But once, YouTube decided to throw a video with a dapper drummer doing Charlie Parker into one of my recommended playlists. I liked what I heard enough to listen to the whole album, and look him up to see what else he had on offer. Turned out he had a little side project called the Rolling Stones. 

    So I started listening, and I was pleasantly shocked by how much I liked it; I’m still not a rock fan, but some bluesy rockers pushed along by a jazz drummer are my weakness. Their music comes with me on runs (I was listening to it when I got the news about grad school), in the car, and into my vinyl collection. My year was made, as the PiT will testify, when I got my hands on tickets for their restarted No Filter Tour this fall, and even convinced a close friend to go with me and made a road trip out of it. It never occurred to me that this could happen, and, while I feel immense sadness about the fact that I’ll never see the Stones live, I feel so much worse for the passing of one of the few admirable men in music, and the hole it must leave for his family and bandmates. This post was mostly a way for me to do a small part towards thanking Charlie for all of the joy he’s given me. 

    If you want to learn more, especially about the music theory side, I really, really recommend Mike Edison’s book Sympathy for the Drummer. It’s well done, not a hagiography but a very able and amusingly told true story about living music history. His Vulture piece on Charlie’s passing gives a good view, with excerpts from the book, and deserves a look by itself.

    • #3
  4. Percival Thatcher
    Percival
    @Percival

    First rate, KW!

    • #4
  5. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Percival (View Comment):

    First rate, KW!

    Thanks Percival. 

    • #5
  6. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):

    Percival (View Comment):

    First rate, KW!

    Thanks Percival.

    Personally, I think the Tube did a fabulous job paying tribute to a local boy. (Who used to drag his kit around on it. Which is real devotion, because I felt like I was in the netherworld just lugging two canvas grocery bags and a backpack, or a suitcase and a backpack). 

    • #6
  7. Ekosj Member
    Ekosj
    @Ekosj

    KirkianWanderer: He was little acquainted with blues music, and said of the experience later: “I went into rhythm and blues. When they asked me to play, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it meant Charlie Parker, played slow.”

    You could do a lot worse than “Charlie Parker played slow”

    The jazz influenced rock drummers are my favorites.   Particularly Bill Bruford.

    Cigarettes … freaking cigarettes.    Every time someone smokes a cig a minute of their life gets transferred from them to Keith Richards.

    RIP Charlie Watts.  Now, if Max Roach will take a break, maybe Charlie Watts can sit in with Charlie Parker in the great beyond jazz band.

    Thanks for a great post!

    • #7
  8. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Ekosj (View Comment):

    KirkianWanderer: He was little acquainted with blues music, and said of the experience later: “I went into rhythm and blues. When they asked me to play, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it meant Charlie Parker, played slow.”

    You could do a lot worse than “Charlie Parker played slow”

    The jazz influenced rock drummers are my favorites. Particularly Bill Bruford.

    Cigarettes … freaking cigarettes. Every time someone smokes a cig a minute of their life gets transferred from them to Keith Richards.

    RIP Charlie Watts. Now, if Max Roach will take a break, maybe Charlie Watts can sit in with Charlie Parker in the great beyond jazz band.

    Undoubtedly true.

    They haven’t said what the cause of death was, but I can’t imagine the throat cancer all those years ago was helpful. It seems to have strengthened everyone’s belief that Keith really may be immortal. Or dead since 1975 and just determined to stick around until the drugs wear off. (On a more serious note, I think that’s turned out to be a curse as well as a blessing, because now the ‘most likely man to die’ is watching his best friends go before him).

    Charlie did a lovely tribute to Max Roach in his collaboration album with Jim Keltner, and, in addition to all of those albums, an unbelievably charming kids’ book about the Bird in the ’60s, so I think they’ll be more than happy to let him play a set as long as he’d like. With Mingus on bass, since that was one of his other great heroes.

    • #8
  9. Ekosj Member
    Ekosj
    @Ekosj

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):

    Ekosj (View Comment):

    KirkianWanderer: He was little acquainted with blues music, and said of the experience later: “I went into rhythm and blues. When they asked me to play, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it meant Charlie Parker, played slow.”

    You could do a lot worse than “Charlie Parker played slow”

    The jazz influenced rock drummers are my favorites. Particularly Bill Bruford.

    Cigarettes … freaking cigarettes. Every time someone smokes a cig a minute of their life gets transferred from them to Keith Richards.

    RIP Charlie Watts. Now, if Max Roach will take a break, maybe Charlie Watts can sit in with Charlie Parker in the great beyond jazz band.

    Undoubtedly true.

    They haven’t said what the cause of death was, but I can’t imagine the throat cancer all those years ago was helpful. It seems to have strengthened everyone’s belief that Keith really may be immortal. Or dead since 1975 and just determined to stick around until the drugs wear off. (On a more serious note, I think that’s turned out to be a curse as well as a blessing, because now the ‘most likely man to die’ is watching his best friends go before him).

    Charlie did a lovely tribute to Max Roach in his collaboration album with Jim Keltner, and, in addition to all of those albums, an unbelievably charming kids’ book about the Bird in the ’60s, so I think they’ll be more than happy to let him play a set as long as he’d like. With Mingus on bass, since that was one of his other great heroes.

    I had no idea about the children’s book.   What a find!!!    I got’sta get me one of those.

    Parker Mingus and Watts.   Charlie cubed.   I’d pay lots and lots to hear that band!

    • #9
  10. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Ekosj (View Comment):

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):

    Ekosj (View Comment):

    KirkianWanderer: He was little acquainted with blues music, and said of the experience later: “I went into rhythm and blues. When they asked me to play, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it meant Charlie Parker, played slow.”

    You could do a lot worse than “Charlie Parker played slow”

    The jazz influenced rock drummers are my favorites. Particularly Bill Bruford.

    Cigarettes … freaking cigarettes. Every time someone smokes a cig a minute of their life gets transferred from them to Keith Richards.

    RIP Charlie Watts. Now, if Max Roach will take a break, maybe Charlie Watts can sit in with Charlie Parker in the great beyond jazz band.

    Undoubtedly true.

    They haven’t said what the cause of death was, but I can’t imagine the throat cancer all those years ago was helpful. It seems to have strengthened everyone’s belief that Keith really may be immortal. Or dead since 1975 and just determined to stick around until the drugs wear off. (On a more serious note, I think that’s turned out to be a curse as well as a blessing, because now the ‘most likely man to die’ is watching his best friends go before him).

    Charlie did a lovely tribute to Max Roach in his collaboration album with Jim Keltner, and, in addition to all of those albums, an unbelievably charming kids’ book about the Bird in the ’60s, so I think they’ll be more than happy to let him play a set as long as he’d like. With Mingus on bass, since that was one of his other great heroes.

    I had no idea about the children’s book. What a find!!! I got’sta get me one of those.

    Parker Mingus and Watts. Charlie cubed. I’d pay lots and lots to hear that band!

    It originally came out in 1965 (it was a slightly reworked version of something he had done as a final project when studying graphic design), and was rereleased in 1991 in conjunction with one of his Parker albums. Ode To A Highflying Bird is the title. A bookseller friend in London sourced a reasonably priced copy for me, and I love it to bits.

    Me too!

    I can’t get you Watts with Parker and Mingus, but I can get you Watts with Jack Bruce and Ian Stewart, which was a spectacular combination. Some jazz and some boogie-woogie.

    (Move over Bill Wyman, there’s a new rhythm section duo in town!)

    And Keith and Charlie did Mingus together.

    • #10
  11. Clavius Thatcher
    Clavius
    @Clavius

    Excellent history of the Stones.  Really a wonderful post.  Thank you!

    • #11
  12. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Clavius (View Comment):

    Excellent history of the Stones. Really a wonderful post. Thank you!

    Thanks Clavius. 

    • #12
  13. Ekosj Member
    Ekosj
    @Ekosj

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):

    I can’t get you Watts with Parker and Mingus, but I can get you Watts with Jack Bruce and Ian Stewart, which was a spectacular combination. Some jazz and some boogie-woogie. 

    (Move over Bill Wyman, there’s a new rhythm section duo in town!)

    You are a treasure trove of great music today.  Thanks!

    • #13
  14. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Ekosj (View Comment):

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):

    I can’t get you Watts with Parker and Mingus, but I can get you Watts with Jack Bruce and Ian Stewart, which was a spectacular combination. Some jazz and some boogie-woogie.

    (Move over Bill Wyman, there’s a new rhythm section duo in town!)

    You are a treasure trove of great music today. Thanks!

    Haha, no problem. I’m happy to be of service.

    There’s actually a whole Rocket 88 album (just titled Rocket 88), which you can find on YouTube, iTunes, and Amazon Music (free streaming with Prime), and the Richards/Watts Mingus piece is on an album called Oh Yeah. 

    Charlie also did a wonderful sit-in with the Danish Radio Big Band a few years back, Charlie Watts Meets The Danish Radio Big Band, which has an original two part tribute to Elvin Jones and and some reworkings of classic Stones songs.

    If you’re just looking for a smile (and some great brush work), his one solo music video is where to find it, particularly the last 30 seconds.

    And he was so, so good on The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions. 

    • #14
  15. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    Excellent.  You put a lot of time and love into this.  I’ll have something to say on the relationship between the rhythm guitar and the drums on Stones songs when I get a little more time.  You’re quite right ot point out a very interesting relationship.

    • #15
  16. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Manny (View Comment):

    Excellent. You put a lot of time and love into this. I’ll have something to say on the relationship between the rhythm guitar and the drums on Stones songs when I get a little more time. You’re quite right to point out a very interesting relationship.

    Thank you! The posts I do on artistic/musical/intellectual collaboration tend to be the most time consuming, but I enjoy them, so it doesn’t feel like a burden. Absolutely, I look forward to it. 

    In a funny way, they remind me a bit of Paul Desmond and Dave Brubeck. An odd couple, with one steady family man who didn’t much like touring, and one who liked the wild life, though both seemed to fundamentally be introverts. I don’t tend to look into musicians too much as personalities, because that’s normally a set-up for disappointment (jazz musicians especially are/were basket cases), but when I first started listening to their music I couldn’t quite figure out why the lead guitarist was spending half his time with his back to the audience locked in with the drummer in live performances, so I did some digging and was pleasantly surprised. (Ditto with Desmond and Brubeck, actually. I saw how much they seemed to really enjoy playing with each other in old concert films, and, against my better judgment, went to find out if they actually liked each other). 

    • #16
  17. tigerlily Member
    tigerlily
    @tigerlily

    Wonderful remembrance KW.

    • #17
  18. tigerlily Member
    tigerlily
    @tigerlily

    The dreaded double post.

    • #18
  19. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    tigerlily (View Comment):

    Wonderful remembrance KW.

    Thanks tigerlily. 

    • #19
  20. OldPhil Coolidge
    OldPhil
    @OldPhil

    Excellent.

    I can still remember 56 years ago listening with my friends to “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” and thinking how nasty it was. I just listened to it again and Charlie’s beat stands out clearly.

    • #20
  21. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    OldPhil (View Comment):

    Excellent.

    I can still remember 56 years ago listening with my friends to “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” and thinking how nasty it was. I just listened to it again and Charlie’s beat stands out clearly.

    Thanks! 

    The opening riff is always the part of the song everyone comments on, but without that propulsive, distinctive rhythm, it wouldn’t be nearly so dirty and catchy. You want to move because the beat doesn’t come down like a hammer, but swings, creates a kind of pumping looseness and tension. Someone just pounding down on the skins would ruin it. 

    So many Stones songs are simply made by Charlie Watts. 

    Like there’s such ‘punch you in the face and steal your wallet’ power to “All Down the Line”: 

    And then the brushwork, and subtlety, really tenderness, of something like “Moonlight Mile”: 

    Something I learned from Mike Edison’s book, which I didn’t notice until he mentioned it, is that the volume of Charlie’s drums goes up in the mix from each album around about Some Girls on. He’s even the first thing you hear on Voodoo Lounge, not Keith. 

    • #21
  22. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    KirkianWanderer: In the vast majority of rock bands, everyone, from the guitarist and bassist to the singer and (possibly) keyboard player, follows the drummer. That wasn’t their formula. Instead, the drums followed the rhythm guitar player, i.e. Keith Richards. It’s something most drummers would have bristled over at best (if Jack Bruce had suggested that Ginger Baker follow him there would have been one less bassist in the world in short order), but Watts went along with it because he saw what it contributed to the band’s sound. Namely, a sense of tension, as the drummer was always chasing the beat, and an unmistakable musical signature.

    I wanted to follow up on this insightful paragraph which I think gets at the heart of Rolling Stones song composition.

    That’s an interesting observation that the drums follow the rhythm guitar.  I think for the most part that is true but I would not say universally.  I have notice the opening intro to Stones songs falls into main four patterns depending on where the drums enter the song.  There may be other patterns, but I would say these four are the overwhelming majority: (1) Songs where the riff (melody, but I’ll call it riff for rock songs) is established fully and then the drum enters. (2) Songs where the beat is ahead of the riff.  (3) Songs where the beat is held back significantly from the introduction of the riff.  And (4) songs where the beat comes in the middle of the riff.

    I think each of the above permutation will give the song a particular aesthetic, and I think it’s very much part of the Stones’ composition process.  Let me take each one of these permutations and give what I think is the aesthetic effect that comes as a result.  I’m only going to embed one or two videos per permutation.  I’ll list other songs of that type.  You can look them up on YouTube.

    A. Let me start with the easy one, songs where the beat is held back significantly from the introduction. These are usually ballads. The classic is Angie, where drums don’t come in until the second verse.  These songs allow the drums to really fade into the background and allow the tone and cadence and pitch of the various instruments to create a sound effect to accentuate the ballad mood.  Here’s Wild Horses where drums don’t enter until the first chorus at about 1:20 into the song.

    Other songs in this category would be Ruby Tuesday, Memory Motel, You Can’t Always Get What you Want (though it’s not Charlie on drums), She’s Like A Rainbow.  Also you could include in this category songs with no drums at all: As Tears Go By and Lady Jane.

    Continued…

    • #22
  23. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    Part 2…

    B. Songs where the beat comes before the melody seem to have the opposite effect of the beat chasing the rhythm. There are a fair number of songs in this category: Under My Thumb, Get off My Cloud, Hang Fire, One Hit to the Body, Emotional Rescue, Time Waits for No One, Dance (Pt1), Undercover of the Night.

    Now in this category I think there are one of two possible aesthetics the Stones are after.  One aesthetic is the sense of the music and the singer chasing the beat.  A perfect song for this aesthetic is Time Waits for No One where the music is trying to catch the ticking time of the beat, time always moving forward.

    That aesthetic accentuates songs like Hang Fire where the narrator character is lazy and so falls behand the beat or Hand of Fate where the character is on the run and you get the feel of the narrator running.

    The other aesthetic from songs with the beat ahead of the riff is it highlights the drummer.  I know Charlies eschews solos and attention, but sometimes the band does ask him to show off his virtuosity.  Get Off My Cloud is an early song where drums come in first to showcase the drummer.  Undercover, Dance, even Emotional Rescue, which I think is such an underrated song.  But I think the best example of showcasing Charlie’s virtuosity is If You Can’t Rock Me.

    C. The category where the riff comes ahead of the beat is the most common, and supports the claim that the beat feels like it’s chasing the rhythm. Many of their great songs fall into this category. Satisfaction, Brown Sugar, Paint It Black, Let’s Spend the Night Together, Jumping Jack Flash, Gimme Shelter, Last Time, Rough Justice, Midnight Rambler, Beast of Burden, and so on and so on.  The list is endless.  But I think that Not Fade Away illustrates it well.

    In some ways having the riff be laid down ahead of the beat makes perfect sense musically.  It establishes the melody on which the rest of the song will develop and reach a conclusion.  It’s classical in a way.  This is such a huge category that perhaps a second song should embedded for an example, one off a more recent album, Rough Justice.

    That’s a great example of rhythm ahead of drums.  That’s characteristic Stones.

    Continued…

    • #23
  24. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    Part 3…

    Before I get to the final category, I want demonstrate a song that combines the riff ahead of the beat and then in the same song the beat ahead of the riff.  It may be the only song in their opus that actually does that and it’s one of their finest compositions, Can’t You hear Me Knocking.  First listen.  It starts off with the melody clearly defined before the drums.

    Yeah, you can feel the drums chasing the riff until the 2:45 mark and then the song shifts.  This song has been criticized as being two songs forced together, but in my humble opinion that is flat out wrong.  Some say the first two and a half minutes is supposed to be one song, a hard rocker, and the balance of the song some sort of pasted-on jazz rock instrumental that has nothing to do with the first half.  No I disagree.  The melody from the second half is a variation from the first.  It’s not a separate melody.  The second melody seems like an inversion of the first.  And the percussion is also inverted.  Where in the first half the drums trail the riff, in the second the riff trails the percussion.  It almost feels like when you listen to this song, you are looking into a mirror.  Great composition.

    So I think you can see how the aesthetic can be altered when the beat comes after the riff is established and when the beat comes before the riff.  There is always a sense of chasing, and whichever comes first alters the listener’s perception of who is chasing who.  But what about songs where the beat comes in the middle of the riff?

    Continued…

    • #24
  25. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    Part 4…

    D. Now there are just a hand full of songs that bring in the beat in the middle of the riff. In a way it’s kind of odd. Doing a quick survey I only found four songs, but I didn’t listen to everything.  But some of these are great songs: Tumbling Dice, It’s Only Rock and Roll, Miss You, and the fourth is the one that just came out last year, Living in a Ghost Town.  I’m not sure what to make of these.  Living in a Ghost Town feels more like it’s in the riff chasing the beat category.  But listen to Tumbling Dice with this in mind.

    The beat came in before the initial completion of the melody.  Overall the song feels more harmonious, more integrated.  Neither seem to be chasing the other.  I think the same holds for It’s Only Rock and Roll.  I don’t know if I would say that for Miss You.  There it feels like the riff is chasing the beat.  Not sure.

    Anyway, I hope you found this interesting.  Perhaps it’s just my imagination but it does strike me that the Stones compose around this relationship between riff and beat, and who is chasing who.

    • #25
  26. Percival Thatcher
    Percival
    @Percival

    Manny, that was good. That should have been a post!

    … but riff ≠ melody.

    • #26
  27. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Percival (View Comment):

    Manny, that was good. That should have been a post!

    … but riff ≠ melody.

    I’ll second Percival, I really enjoyed reading that!

    • #27
  28. KirkianWanderer Inactive
    KirkianWanderer
    @KirkianWanderer

    Manny (View Comment):

    Part 4…

    D. Now there are just a hand full of songs that bring in the beat in the middle of the riff. In a way it’s kind of odd. Doing a quick survey I only found four songs, but I didn’t listen to everything. But some of these are great songs: Tumbling Dice, It’s Only Rock and Roll, Miss You, and the fourth is the one that just came out last year, Living in a Ghost Town. I’m not sure what to make of these. Living in a Ghost Town feels more like it’s in the riff chasing the beat category. But listen to Tumbling Dice with this in mind.

    The beat came in before the initial completion of the melody. Overall the song feels more harmonious, more integrated. Neither seem to be chasing the other. I think the same holds for It’s Only Rock and Roll. I don’t know if I would say that for Miss You. There it feels like the riff is chasing the beat. Not sure.

    Anyway, I hope you found this interesting. Perhaps it’s just my imagination but it does strike me that the Stones compose around this relationship between riff and beat, and who is chasing who.

    I don’t think it is just your imagination, that style of composition (which seems to arise in large part out of improvisation between drums and guitar plus optionally other instruments and voice) is truly fundamental to what makes a Stones song a Stones song, and even lets them lend their own color to covers. 

    The “Living in a Ghost Town” thing is interesting. It’s one track off of a forthcoming album (which they’ve been working on for years, I think they were doing finishing touches on that, and the additional 9 songs for the Tattoo You re-release after lockdown eased in England), which makes me wonder if that’s going to be a pattern over the whole project or just a one off to the song. I assume either way it’s going to be the last Rolling Stones album, or at least I hope it will be. I like Steve Jordan, but it feels wrong, and I doubt the sound will be right, to have him recording a new album after this one, or joining them for another 5 years of touring. It would be disappointing to see them discard all of Keith’s years of “No Charlie, no Stones” and become The Who or Queen + Adam Lambert. 

    • #28
  29. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    Percival (View Comment):

    Manny, that was good. That should have been a post!

    … but riff ≠ melody.

    That’s true technically but I think for the purposes of rock and roll that do not have very complex melodies they are pretty close. 

    • #29
  30. Manny Coolidge
    Manny
    @Manny

    KirkianWanderer (View Comment):
    The “Living in a Ghost Town” thing is interesting. It’s one track off of a forthcoming album (which they’ve been working on for years, I think they were doing finishing touches on that, and the additional 9 songs for the Tattoo You re-release after lockdown eased in England), which makes me wonder if that’s going to be a pattern over the whole project or just a one off to the song. I assume either way it’s going to be the last Rolling Stones album, or at least I hope it will be. I like Steve Jordan, but it feels wrong, and I doubt the sound will be right, to have him recording a new album after this one, or joining them for another 5 years of touring. It would be disappointing to see them discard all of Keith’s years of “No Charlie, no Stones” and become The Who or Queen + Adam Lambert. 

    They’ve got so many songs in the “vault” that they don’t need to make new songs for a new album. They could rework the ones not released yet. I just heard Criss Cross which was one off the Goats Head Soup sessions that was recently released and it’s superb. I liked A Bigger Bang but the couple of albums before weren’t up to standard. Unless Keith is working in the studio tinkering the results are basically rehashed, and second best at that. I think they lost something when Bill Wyman retired. I think without Charlie it will be even worse. 

    • #30
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